Victor Wilson Biography

Indeed the essence of the world is unpredictable
I ran from serfdom to discover the path of manumission
But this path is more of a real servitude
I'm like a caged bird whose heart has been eaten out
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With eyes like storms, he casts his blame,
But I return his gaze — unshaken, same.
Though silence bruises where words once stayed,
I wear my wounds in light, not shade.
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